


How to Get Away With Meeting a Murderer

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive boyfriend, And Pleasantly Surprised For That Matter Too, First Meetings, Homophobia, Hopeful Ending, Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Inappropriate Humor, It's Actually a Lot Funnier Than I Expected, Killer Castiel, M/M, Made-Up Homophobic Town, Murder, Murderers, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Past Abuse, Serial Killer Dean, With Those Warnings Out of the Way, hitman dean, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 12:59:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12133020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: Cas blinks a few times, calculating the statement, “Are you joking?”“For the moment, yes,” Dean says, but it’s with a smile. It’s a nice smile. “C’mon, humor me. You might get shipped off to prison tomorrow for the half-assed job you’re doing, leaving a trail behind.”“Wha—?” Cas swivels behind him to indeed see a track in the gravel. “Shit.”





	How to Get Away With Meeting a Murderer

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Inspired by the Skype call with my best friend last night, in which she said, “Could you imagine? Two murderers meeting when they’re both dumping bodies in the same place, at the same time?”
> 
> To which, as I’m sure you guessed, I replied: “Imagine your OTP.”
> 
> On a side note, I can't believe I made it in time for Destiel Day (aka our in-show murder husbands' NINTH anniversary)!!!! Happy September 18th, everyone! (And, as I've seen going around, Cas's birthday - if you celebrate - jkjk.)
> 
> Then again, every day is Destiel Day for a fan fic writer like myself. (;

Cas doesn’t expect a dead body to be so heavy.

Then again, he also didn’t expect to shoot someone point-blank in his lifetime.

Nor did he expect to find someone at the same place he is, dumping a fresh body too.

The man turns, his swampy green eyes passive, nonchalant—as if it’s an everyday occurrence someone intrudes on him while he dumps a body. He’s a bit broader in his flannel-decked shoulders though, so even if he had had a bigger reaction, he could probably take Cas as his second victim.

Cas, still towing his own deadweight behind him, stumbles for words, "This, um… was an accident.”

"Oh,” the man replies, voice deeper than the canal before them as he lets go of the body, not watching as it sinks in favor of Cas. "Shame."

"Shame?"

"Yeah, I killed my guy on purpose."

Cas’s eyes widen. "Um... are you supposed to be revealing the identity of who you killed?"

"He's already dead. Beyond physically."

Cas isn’t sure what that last part means, but he has a feeling he isn’t _supposed_ to know. "Okay,” he says carefully, “why are you dumping the body here?"

“The same reason you are,” the man replies, “they break down faster in water.”

"Right." He’s not wrong, Cas did do his research. (Then promptly deleted his browsing history.)

“Dean,” the man says, holding out his hand, “Dean Winchester.”

“Why are you telling me your name?”

“You won’t remember it after I drug you.”

Cas blinks a few times, calculating the statement, “Are you joking?”

“For the moment, yes,” Dean says, but it’s with a smile. It’s a nice smile. “C’mon, humor me. You might get shipped off to prison tomorrow for the half-assed job you’re doing, leaving a trail behind.”

“Wha—?” Cas swivels behind him to indeed see a track in the gravel. “Shit.”

“Here... let me help you,” Dean says, the last four words strained as he takes his hand back to start hauling the body into his arms (and honestly, if there wasn’t a shower curtain wrapped around his dead ex-boyfriend, it would look like Dean’s starring on the cover of a softcore paperback romance novel) before swinging it into the lake, like the body weighs nothing more than a washed-up trout.

Cas stares on, dumbfounded, before he forcibly tears his gaze away from the scene. “Um… thanks, I guess,” he replies, blinking at Dean. “Cas. My name—it’s Cas.”

“No last name?”

“Not when you’re asking, no.”

Dean chuckles. His dimples in his high cheekbones push his freckles and ginger brown stubble out like ripples in the water pushing lilies further along the stream. Cas hates to admit he’s attracted to… well, a murderer, but he deserves to have a little fun after the day he’s had. “Touché.” Clapping his hands, he adds: “Well Cas, welcome to the club.”

"No."

"No?"

"No,” Cas replies, shaking his head furiously, "I'm not like you. I'm not a murderer."

"Perk up, buddy, it's not that bad, life on the run," Dean says, "Hell, the motel beds with the Magic Fingers really know how to work out those stubborn knots. My guy before this, he was a fighter till the end. Almost tore my back out when I was strangling him with the phone wire."

"You realize how insane you sound, right?"

"Good, I'll know what case to plea if I ever find myself in a courthouse again."

"You really have no empathy for the people you kill?” Cas asks out of curiosity, because Dean’s right: He could be thrown in prison tomorrow. Or dead himself. “Guilt? Any of this ring a bell?"

"Hey, I may be a murderer, but I'm no monster."

Cas’s eyes narrow. Dean opens his mouth, then closes it upon realization.

"I do,” he says, starting again, “have empathy, I mean. Just not for these sons a bitches.” Dean looks out at the canal briefly, and then turns back to Cas. “As for guilt, I tend to leave that in the trunk."

Cas doesn’t let up on the question written on his face.

"Don't you get it?" Dean asks, smiling in amusement, "I'm a hitman, Cas."

"Ooh... um..." Well, again, like many things, that also ranks as being _not_ what he’s expecting out of tonight. "Is that good pay?" he asks stupidly.

Dean laughs, "Yes, Cas, it's good pay. So what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“Yeah, why’d you take your first life?”

“You sound like I’ll be taking more somewhere down the line.”

“You sound so sure you _won’t._ ”

Cas scoffs, raising an accusing finger. “Again, _insane.”_ He pauses, then decides: “Fuck it, I don’t have anything to lose anymore: My boyfriend, the one you just helped me dump, was a raging drunk. Came home late, as usual. I told him I was done with all the emotional abuse.

“Not a wise decision to test someone who’s loaded. He lunged for me, pinned me against the wall. Luckily, it was next to the nightstand, which was already open because I was putting on lotion when he came in. So I stretched my arm, reached inside, grabbed my gun, and gave him the real taste of what it feels like to be loaded.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up almost as fast as said bullet Cas mentions, “I’m impressed,” he remarks, “but if you were acting out of self-defense, why are you covering your tracks?”

“You haven’t been in this town very long, have you?”

Dean tilts his head. “No, why? What happens?”

“Death to the gay man, that’s what happens,” Cas answers. “This town is notorious for hate crimes against its sub-community. Even if I win the case in court, I’ll be hunted for my ass. And if I don’t…”

“You’re serving time for homosexuality.” Dean scoffs, “Wow, no wonder I was sent here. I probably gave my guy a _blessing_ taking him outta this place.”

Cas nods. “I’ve been trying to get out since my boyfriend dragged me here by my skinny. He has— _had—_ family here. Also complete homophobes. But I’m glad I never got to meet them. If they were half as bad as David was, they’re no family to me.”

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s alright,” Cas dismisses, shoving his hands in his pockets as he starts to walk the opposite direction. He turns around only to add: “Just watch your back.”

Dean’s mouth, which was parted to the side not even a few seconds ago, drops. “Wow. I mean… um, I’m not hiding anything, but how did you know?”

“You’ve got a way about you. You’re very chatty. Girls too, I presume?”

Dean scoffs as a small smile returns to his salt-washed face, “You’re good. You know, you really wouldn’t make a bad murderer.”

“As much as I’d love to see this town go up in flames, I have to live my own life before it’s taken for granted,” Cas says. “But if you find yourself around these parts again before that fateful day, meet me here again. At this canal. Maybe we could use our own bodies for good.”

Dean licks his lips, another smile crossing his freckled cheeks as he waves, “Sounds like a plan, Cas.”


End file.
